Poetry is the voice
Of the hearts too damaged
To speak the language
Of a people who are not healed
Or healing, but of those
Who were never tattered to begin with.
It is the opportunity
To convey a message
In the only way known,
By those of us who have
Lost touch with the world
And everyone inside it.
We are not yet healing, or healed,
But in the depths of our wounds,
Some of us more injured than others
Yet all in the same swirling
Bottemless pit of depression
And aching.
Depression- such a powerful word,
Though never drawing attention to oneself
WE are in this abyss
Of nothingness and lonliness
Swirling around each other,
Bumping into each other,  but never leaving.